Here Comes Hank
by CyKiESuMMerS
Summary: Here Comes Hank...For the Second Time! & the rest of the zany crew! They're up for adventure! Confrontation! Mystery! Thrill! Dean and Brock solve the mystery of the chocolate stains in Brock's baby...The Monarch plans his final attack on Rusty Venture...ever...CHAPTER 2 UPFATED !
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: This is my first Venture Bros. fic! Never thought I'd do one but then I noticed how little Nikki/Hank love there was. Hope those who venture to the Venture Bros. FF page enjoy! Just as fore note: This is supposed to be after the episode "Everybody Come to Hank's" and the part where Dermott's real mother seduces Hank has already happened but remember he got his memory washed, so this is the first time they are seeing each other afterwards, although of course, Hank has forgotten everything.**

* * *

Gritting his teeth together, veins and muscles bulging in his great tree trunk neck, a blond mutton chopped beast of a man gripped the door handle of his retro muscle car so hard it might have broken off.

A cigarette clenched tightly between his thick white teeth, and baby blue eyes fixed menacingly at the steering wheel and handles slicked with melted chocolate. A boy of about 15 with a short brown crew cut poked his head into the open garage, "Hey Brock, whatcha doing?"

Without looking back at the boy, Brock growled out slowly, "Dean, where's your brother Hank?"

Dean scratched his head, then huffed, voice cracking, "Oh him. He's with that bully Dermott! He's out for a play date at his place." Brock's eye twitched, and a corner of his clenched mouth involuntarily twisted up in a snarl like grin. "So he's with the fat kid, huh?" His baby blues twitched again, dangerously.

* * *

-Cue credits & Venture Bros. theme song Intro.-

*****The Venture Bros****

* * *

"Hi Hank..."  
Hank looked up from a TV dinner he was eating, while sitting cross legged on the shag-carpeted floor of his friend, Dermott's, T.V. room. They were watching an afternoon special of the batman cartoons. A drop of slimy, congealed gravy soaked beef plopped from the fork he held up, to the pool of wet peas in his TV dinner tray and he stared up wordlessly as a woman in shorts and a tank top smiled at him, her long wavy brown hair pushed back. Beautiful large brown eyes sparkled at him, slanted mischievously.

"Hey get out of here Nikki! D'ya have to be so annoying?" Dermott, a hefty, older kid with a blond, borderline mullet, gave his sister the evil eye, from his seat on the couch that sagged beneath him.

Nikki leaned against the door frame adjoining the kitchen. She lowered a brow, "Hey don't use that tone with me young man. Moms out for bingo tonight, so I'm left to babysit. Which means I get you boys all to myself." She winked sideways at Hank whose stare was still transfixed on her. He gulped and tugged at the Boy Scout fashioned scarf tied around his neck under his shirt collar.

Dermott glared ruefully at his sister and called out, "I'm old enough not to need a babysitter! What is your problem? At least order us some pizza then. And stop standing there like a douche."

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Nikki turned to the kitchen to retrieve the phone and responded, "Fine, just be good, Dermott... While we're waiting for the pizza, you won't mind if I borrow your little friend for a few minutes...would you?"

* * *

In a top secret giant cocoon floating somewhere, a gangling man in a tight, Monarch Butterfly costume complete with life-size wings paced a platform in his head quarter compound. A thin but busty young woman with a Jackie O. haircut sat in a throne on the platform, busily stroking the head of one of two small dwarves standing loyally at her side.

Many henchmen in identical butterfly uniforms and masks surrounded them, tinkering away on computers.

In a high, nasally voice, the mighty Monarch pointed at a large overhead screen and commanded, "Zoom, 21, zoom!"

A chunky henchman, who bulged out more than any of the others in his spandex butterfly suit, twisted a dial on his computer and looked at the screen, confirming a zoomed in image of Rusty Venture standing barefoot in his home, still dressed in pajamas. The Monarch's long, twisted eyebrows dropped and he dead panned at the screen, "Really? Like really, is this guy for reals?! It's noon and he's still in his p.j.'s! What kind of arch nemesis is this?! This is the Mighty Monarch Butterfly you are dealing with! You do not want to be caught in your pajamas when he's preparing to attack!" He held up a shaking fist threateningly at the screen image of the bald man.

The Monarch cried out in frustration and smacked his forehead, as the surveillance video of Rusty showed him walking into the bathroom and sitting down on the toilet, leaving the door wide open.

A deep, husky male voice rumbled out of the young woman's throat, "Honey, Doctah Ventcha is obviously not worth your time, we can pick someone else to arch! Why don't you just quit it with the poor doctah? He's not arching material."

Spinning towards his beloved, the Monarch spat out with a vengeance, "It must be Venture! Mark my words, he will go down! Just this one last time, let me take him down once and for all, my sweet. This is the perfect opportunity! He's just waiting to be jumped on! To be mounted and ridden for all his dear life! He's completely alone, without those meddling boys who are always in the way, and without that big bad body guard of his. Without the bodyguard, Venture's as frail as a baby cow meant for veal! Victory shall be mine today!"

His wife, Dr. Girlfriend grumbled, "I don't think you're supposed to use veal in a sentence like that, honey, it's still a sensative topic with animal rights activists."

* * *

Dean held on for dear life as he bounced about in the passenger seat of Brock's throttling car. Bent forward with primal determination and a maniacal smile pasted on, the tough body guard sped along the road. Dean rattled out, "It can't have been Hank though! He knows better than to touch your car!"

Brock nodded, "Exactly, but that fat and stupid kid he hangs around with, Dermott, doesn't. And that little pigs hooves are always covered in chocolate, he eats those Mars Bars like they're oxygen." Letting out a guttural roar, Brock thundered, "Ahhhh! I'm gonna finally kill the little bastard!"

Dean shook, "But Brock you're-you're out of your mind right now!surely you don't want his blood on your hands!"

Halting to a stop roughly in front of the Fictel residence, Brock laughed in a low voice, "Yes, yes...blood!"

* * *

Back at the venture compound, the balding defunct scientist, Rusty, woke up in his mod bedroom and walked around the compound, stopping in the hanger, where he looked around with seriously concerned eyes. "Where is everyone?" He wondered aloud.

A campy jingle beeped from the watch he was just about to latch onto his bony wrist.

A stat-icky screen blinked on the face of the watch, and Dean's face popped up. Rusty shouted, "Dean? Dean! Where are you? I'm hungry and no one-"

Dean interrupted frantically, "Dad, you've got to come to the Fictel's Residence! I-I'm afraid Brock's going to go on a homicidal rampage!"

Rusty Venture stared at the tiny image of his cloned son blinking and shouting at him, then with a hand to his scraggly goatee, he murmured as if dusting off his memory, "Fictel..."

* * *

**A.N.: Don't forget to review!**


	2. Chapter 2

In a 70's-architectural house with a wooden sign that said "Fictel" in the doorway, Nikki Fictel was leading Hank Venture by the hand to her bedroom, the same room she had when she was a growing up, and as a teenage girl.

She sat him down on her bed, and put her hand on his shoulder. Smiling slyly at him, she coaxed, "Hey why are you so nervous now? Where did your smooth, sweet-talking go?"

With a mute expression of fear and terror, the boy with the blond buzz cut stammered, "S-s-sweet talking? W-w-w-we've t-talked b-before?"

Nikki leaned forward, pulling on Hank's signature ascot, the scarf he tied underneath his white shirt collar. She laughed at his cuteness, "This is not how I remember you. Did Dermott tell you anything mean about me that put you off? You know how...brothers, are." Hank barely noticed her slight pause, but dismissed it for fear of his nerves around a pretty girl whom he had the biggest crush on, but no recollection of ever speaking a word to.

Still stuttering, Hank blurted out, admitting, "I d-don't know w-what y-you're doing."

Nicki leaned in closer to him, hand still holding his ascot. Hank gulped, the close position gave no doubt of what she was doing.

Tickling his nose with the tip of his ascot, Nikki giggled, then dryly asked, "Why do you wear this thing? Aw, maybe you need your hat."

Hank stared at the older woman he had been infatuated with from the first time he laid eyes on her, and yelped, "Hat? What hat?"

Nikki flippantly said, "I don't know, your good luck hat or something. You said you couldn't take it off."

Rounding his eyes, and staring at the woman's fingers tickling his face with the end of his ascot, Hank bravely swallowed once more and declared, "Nikki. I have a confession to make. B-before we go any further, I will have you know that I have been laid once before. However, I got my memory erased afterwards, but I recorded a video to tell my future self that I am a man now, and-and if this is really happening right now, then I will be a man. For you Nikki. I don't remember that one time at all, so to be honest...y-you're the first g-girl I'll ev-ever have the honor to be with."

Nikki stared astoundingly at Hank, her brown eyes twinkling. Chuckling, she muttered, "Oh...I see then...Of course. Um, yeah, the first time was with me. I remember everything, so um, I hope that fills in that little memory lapse. Why did you erase your memory?"

Hank gaped in awe at the woman he had admired silently for as long as he had known Dermott.

The truth was coming out in front of him and all he could do was stare and think, ME? AND HER?

If Hank had died right then and there, before the actual act could happen again, he would still die happy.

"I-I don't know, my past self told me he had to delete some other stuff in my brain but it was connected with that memory, so it all got erased. Boy, memory-erasing science sounds complicated." Hank pouted, jutting his lower lip out and looked down, scrubbing the toe of his sneaker against the floor.

Nikki laughed ironically, Hank found that he enjoyed her laughs even if they were towards him. She sighed, "Oh you don't even know complicated."

Shifting so that she was face to face with the younger boy who often played with her little brother, she sighed wistfully again, "Well how about I help you out there and jog your memory a bit, hm? I'm still, um, happy about the last time."

Hank proudly puffed out his chest and admitted, "You know Nikki, I've had the biggest crush on you since I met you. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen! Dean and I have met lots of girls, almost about 6 in fact! Happens when we leave the compound every once in a while. But you, lady, are the real deal, you're the prettiest girl I've ever met. I've only ever dreamed of talking to you and...and this. Never thought my dreams would ever come true."

Nikki patted Hank on the head, "Aw, you're sweet Hank, and cute. Even at...15, you're more man than your dad's ever been. You're like the um, cartoon hero Rusty, the boy adventurer, not some washed up has-been... Do you remember me telling you that? Oh well, I'll fill you in again. You know what? I have a crush on you too, Hank. Of course, if you didn't erase your memory, you'd remember that."

Feeling more confident, Hank closed his eyes, gulped, and then squared his shoulders, looking Nikki straight in the eyes. He held her about the shoulders and ordered, "Alright lady, for Pete's sake, kiss me!"

Nikki in return, clutched his shoulders, and grinned, "Now that's more like it. Hat or no hat, you're still actually cute."

* * *

A dramatic tune flared up on the T.V., the familiar Batman theme song. Dermott eagerly gulped down a chunk of Mars Bar which he held in his chubby hand, eyes glued to the cartoon images of Batman fighting villains on television.

Dermott nodded in approval, chuckling a little to himself, "Wicked! If Nikki weren't takin' forever buggin' Hank, he'd laugh at this too."

The screen flashed red, a spiky white speech bubble blown up in the middle, with the word, "POW!" in bold yellow letters.

The front door crashed down in the living room, and Dermott jumped up, hearing the loud crack that accompanied the felled door.

As if in domino effect, the door which had slammed face-down inside the house, was followed by the hulking figure of Brock Samson, which took up the space of the door frame before he stepped in, walking on the door as if it were some plank.

Bristling and emitting deep growls, Brock stabbed his arm straight and pointed at Dermott; his hands holding a crushed chocolate bar which he squeezed in fright.

"Youuu...", Brock insisted in a deep groan.

Holding his hands up, still clutching his Mars Bar, Dermott frowned and impatiently said, "Hey man, you got a lotta nerve just bustin' in here while I'm watchin' my afternoon 'toons. Like, psh, hear of knocking, ever?"

Brock quickly cracked his neck, twisting his head impulsively. In short breaths, the massive man tried his best not to shout, "What-the hell, you, touched, my car. You went inside of my...car."

Dermott flipped his blond shaggy hair over his shoulder and turned his nose up, "I was just playing. Hank was too chicken to go in, but I wanted to. Sittin' in it made me feel like James Bond. So what, big deal, douche."

A roar rent into the living room, and then Brock was airborne, pouncing on the chubby blond kid whose empty threats, ridiculous bragging, and dumb ass remarks had tormented the killing machine inside of him, aching so badly to punch the little shit's brains out.

Dermott's less enthusiastic grunts and groans filled the room, following the pounding that came from Brock's fists firing one rapid punch after another into every part of the fat sack of flesh that was Dermott.

Dean stared at the unchallenged attack and wept, "N-No Brock! Stop it! Violence isn't the answer!"

Skipping back to sit in the car, Dean folded his knees against his chest and rocked back and forth, mumbling, "I'll just wait in the car for dad to arrive, Brock! No need to worry about me..."

* * *

As he strapped his shoes on, humming to himself a little ditty, Rusty stepped onto his hover moped, grudgingly answering to a call from Dean in need of his help.

Before he could step on the pedal, a cloud of gray smoke burst in front of him, spreading fast and engulfing him. Rusty coughed his lungs raw, and squinted an eye through his cloudy glasses, glimpsing the outline of a butterfly-shaped smoke bomb on the ground.

A gold-plated toe stepped towards him, just outside of the smoke cloud, and the dramatic, whiny voice of Monarch boomed, "Rusty Venturree? Prepare to meet your end! At the hands of the MIGHTY MONARCH, YOU SHALL PERISH!"

Venture hacked, "Couldn't you please have come at least a decade ago? ...Here we go again...BROCK!?"

Venture's vision blackened.

* * *

Brock cackled, teeth grinding down on the butt of a cigarette, his large, muscly strong arm was bent out, his fist buried in the collar of Dermott's jacket, as he pinned the kid against his own wall.

Dermott's feet dangled above the floor. Dermott suffered a minor black eye, but his face still held some stubborn, smug self-righteousness that made Brock want to stop restraining his strength.

He gave the kid a good hard shake, rattling every bone in his body. Dermott's nose slowly dripped blood and tears burst from his eyes. Dermott sniffed, rubbing his nose, "Crap, my living room! If I hadn't just eaten lunch, I woulda been way cooler than you! You're not even scary! I woulda tackled you to the like, ground, and like beat you with my door, like all Wrassle Mania style! You said you did jijitsu and shit? Wait until I digest, I'll show you REAL jijitsu that'll make your jijitsu look wicked unlegit."

Brock bit so hard on his butt that it snapped straight off. Dermott flinched, tears still streaming.

Brock cracked his neck like a whip, "Rule number 1, stay the eff away from my car, kid."

He spit the end of the severed butt out and then lowered Dermott to the ground.

Awkwardly looking around, Brock cleared his throat and walked backwards out the entrance, picking up the door and smushing it into place, wedging it as best as he could with brute strength.

Nikki rushed in, wrapped in a nightie. She dreamily called out, "Pizza here?"

Dermott rubbed his eye and muttered, "As a matter of fact, it is..."

The door had been tapped and fell once more, a baffled pizza delivery guy stood on the other side, holding his knuckles up, pizza in the other hand.

The dreamy, contentedness that had drugged Nikki suddenly lifted as she looked around the living room mess, with the door on the floor and Dermott's heckled appearance.

"Seriously, can you explain to me what happened?"

Dermott yelled, "My freakin' dad just ambushed me and freakin' went ape shit bananas on me! He was here to like, claim me I suppose. He wants to like rough house and stuff, but he laid down rules about his car."

Nikki gasped, falling back, "Rusty Venture was, um, here?"

"Huh?" Dermott briefly puzzled, "No, that's Hank's dad. Brock-Brock Samson was just here! He totally wanted to kill me, but whatever, he knows what's good for him, and didn't try to challenge my jijitsu skills."

Nikki quirked her eyebrow, then said skeptically, "Uh huh...Can you please fix the door, Dermott?"

She made her way to the delivery guy and exchanged money for the steaming box.

Dermott wiped his nose, and sat back down on the couch, having taken a slice of pizza.

* * *

Inside of Brock's speeding car, Dean gnawed on his knuckles, darting looks at the driver, who stoically stared straight at the road, smoking another, post-relief cigarette.

The boy in the red sweater vest squeaked, "Is he dead?"

Brock snorted and smirked, "No, Dean, what? What the hell, boy, I did not kill Dermott. He's alive and well. We just laid down some ground rules, and I think he knows better now."

"Phew!" Dean blew out in relief and laughed nervously, "I was sure he was a goner! Good thing, uh, good thing dad didn't show up then!"

They pulled up to the driveway of their home, just in time.

A group of Monarch's henchmen were swarmed around the house, some of them coming out with loot.

The Monarch himself was beginning to ascend a ramp that lead up to his floating cocoon head quarters, and behind him, two henchmen had Rusty tied upside down to a stick they hoisted on their shoulders, between them.


End file.
